We are not human,
We own and live in one.

This outward project—a façade,
This tangible world—a mirage.

What makes it work comes from within,
Deep in the place of creation,
That's intangible, unseen, and untouched.

Power is in it,
As it sways and molds what we can perceive
And see.

What are we?
Traveloid beings
In the dimension of the fifth,
Occupying a three-dimensional vessel,
Assuming limited—a perspective,
And navigating with our decisions,
Just to experience
What it is like
To be human.